


Where Law Meets Reality

by paradiamond



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: M/M, Matt doing what Matt always does, Post Season 1, Potato Matt, Pre Season 2, Superhero Foggy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-12 11:01:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7100233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paradiamond/pseuds/paradiamond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt is fairly confidant that no one knows anyone like Matt knows Foggy. Living and working together, sharing memories, and falling in love, at least on Matt’s side, had created a casual intimacy that Matt knows is unmatched for both of them. Even so, he fails to notice what’s right in front of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Discovery

Matt knows Foggy better than anyone. 

He knows his face, his voice, his dreams, his body. Matt doesn’t go out of his way to touch Foggy per se, but he doesn’t avoid it either, not like he does with most other people. They brush shoulders, touch hands, hug. He knows what Foggy feels like, which is how he notices the change so quickly when Foggy slides an arm around Matt’s shoulders and squeezes. 

“Have you been working out?” Matt asks, pulling away from Foggy’s arm and immediately regretting it, both for the loss of contact and for the words. He doesn’t need to sound like he’s flirting, even if he kind of is, kind of all the time. Now is not the right moment. The last time he messed up this badly he had asked Foggy if he was going to kiss him and Foggy had just joked and laughed it off. Matt had laughed back, wanting to jump out of the window the entire time. 

Foggy just pats his own stomach and laughs. “Nah. That’s what happens when you replace comfort food with sex for a while.” 

Matt tries to laugh too, he really does, but it come out as more of a bark. He’d been so sure he’d heard the last of the Marci sex stories for the time being. Foggy hadn’t even slept with her for weeks, a fact that Matt is acutely aware of and Foggy desperately pretends not to know he knows. He’s pretty sure that’s why Foggy had made the switch to his new, and awful, cologne. It’s strong, and covers up almost all of Foggy’s natural smell, which Matt has to admit he misses. Not that Matt can really blame him for trying to regain some semblance of privacy from Matt’s senses, but it still hurts his head. At least he can smell him from over a block away now. Matt shakes his head and puts on his happy face. 

“Well, not that you need it,” Matt says, going for casual and failing right away. Again. 

Foggy laughs again. “Oh I kind of did. Anyway, want to go to the new vietnamese place around the corner?” 

Matt agrees right away, glad to let the issue drop. Foggy slides his arm around Matt’s shoulders again as they walk, pretending to guide him around as he often does when Matt can’t be bothered with the cane. The differences in his body compared to the last time he had been this close stand out in sharp contrast to the Foggy in Matt’s mind, and he tries to wonder how he had missed them, but he already knows. 

“There’s nothing I want more than to find a way back to where we were, but I don’t know if we can.” Matt winces at the memory. Foggy had been so upset. 

Ever since Foggy found out, ever since Fisk, things hadn’t been the same. Not that Matt had expected them to be, and he told Foggy as much that night in the gym. Matt had said that they could move forward, but so far moving forward is a whole lot like moving farther apart. They don’t touch as much as they used to, which must be how Matt missed the changes. 

Which isn’t to say that he blames Foggy for being distant, or for trusting him less, but it hurts that they barely see each other outside of work anymore, that on the rare occasion that Matt doesn’t go out on patrol Foggy is nearly always busy. 

Even this lunch is a rare thing, and one that Matt chooses to take as a sign. He’ll pay better attention, get their friendship back on track before he thinks about trying for anything else. He hadn’t dared wish for more in months, even years, but now that Foggy knows about everything and is _still here_ he’s feeling daring again. But that’s the future. Foggy needs time and for now, Matt needs his friend. He has to make it right. 

Foggy turns towards him at a crosswalk. “You ok buddy?”

Matt smiles, genuine this time. “Yeah, I’m good.” 

He intends to be anyway. 

***

Paying closer attention yields some rather dismaying results. 

“I would love to go out tonight, but I have a thing,” Foggy says, sounding incredibly fake. Matt is distinctly reminded of when Foggy had lied to Karen about talking to Daredevil during the Fisk investigation. He’s still that bad at it. 

Matt smiles carefully. “Ok, I just thought I’d ask.” 

“Thanks, we should hang out sometime though, definitely.” Foggy smiles back and retreats into his office. Probably feeling the burn of the guilt that comes from lying, and Matt can relate. He leans against the wall, thinking. So this is what it feels like. 

Music drifts out from Foggy’s office, audible through the now closed door. Foggy didn’t use to close his door much. Matt sighs and straightens up. The current theory he has is a new girlfriend. That could explain the working out, the new smell, the strange and terrible excuses. The only thing that throws Matt for a loop is the fact that Foggy hadn’t, and apparently won’t, say anything about it, even though he used to tell Matt everything. 

Matt frowns, picking at a loose thread on his jacket sleeve. Maybe they had just moved so far from that point that isn’t an option any more. Everything is different, Foggy’s body, his _smell_. Matt doesn’t have any footing anymore, like the floor is falling down around him. 

“You ok?” 

Matt raises his head in the direction of Karen’s voice, realizing all at once that he had been standing there, in silence, in front of her, since Foggy left. Recovering himself, Matt approaches Karen’s desk, aware that he needs to play this very smoothly. 

“So, know if Foggy has a secret girlfriend?” 

“Oh, uh…” Karen’s heart rate picks up, sounding vaguely alarmed. 

Oops. 

“Just out of curiosity,” Matt says, backpedaling. 

“I have no idea,” Karen says and she moves, probably shooting a furtive glance in the direction of Foggy’s office and Matt’s eyebrows fly up of their own accord, an odd suspicion forming in his mind. He smiles, more genuinely this time. That wouldn’t be so bad. At least the two people he loves most would be happy together. He just wishes they would tell him. 

Not that he’s above finding out on his own. 

“Well, I was just wondering if you knew. I’d like to tease him about it, get some revenge of my own.” Matt tries to turn on the charm, which is more difficult than it usually is. Maybe he’s getting too used to trying to be menacing. Or Karen is getting immune. 

Karen laughs, but it’s strained. “Well, I don’t.” 

A lie. 

Matt smirks and puts a hand on her desk, leaning closer. He feels like a shark, circling in for the strike. They should really know better than to try to keep things from him. “Well, in that case since Foggy turned me down do you want to go to the bar?” 

“Sure!” Karen straightens up, brightening considerably. “Right after work?” 

Matt freezes, caught off guard. Apparently not so shark-like. “Uh, yes. If you want.” 

“Hey, what are you guys gossiping about without me?” 

“Matt and I are going out for drinks,” Karen answers, the smile clear in her voice. 

Foggy hums, tossing his ball up and catching it easily. “Nice, wish I could come.” 

“Then come,” Matt says, flatly. 

“Can’t. Love to, but can’t.” 

Karen sighs dramatically. “You don’t love us!” 

Foggy snorts and tosses the ball in her direction, poorly, and Matt has to resist the urge to catch it when she clearly isn’t going to. “Maybe I don’t, maybe I do, either way I’ll see you later. Bye guys.”

“Bye,” Karen says and Matt smiles in his direction. 

Foggy walks to the door. Matt stays still and quiet, aware of Karen watching him listen to Foggy leave. When he’s most of the way down the stairs, Matt turns to her again. 

“How about we meet up at seven instead? I just remembered that I have to do something.” 

Karen sighs and he hears the distinct sound of her forehead hitting her palm. “You’re not really going to follow Foggy around are you? Just lead me to believe that you’re not going to do that.” 

“You’re starting to sound like him, you know.” 

“Matt.” 

He shakes his head at her. “Of course not, that would be ridiculous.” 

Technically he doesn’t _follow_ Foggy. He finds him. His scent is very strong and his heartbeat is more familiar to Matt than his own. Foggy is inside a building that has many people moving around inside of it, but Matt doesn’t know what kind. 

Curious, Matt turns to stop the first person that passes by, but freezes, caught be a flash of clarity. “Dammit.” 

Matt turns and walks away, the guilt he had been fighting surging up with a vengeance. He shouldn’t be inviting himself into parts of Foggy’s life that he had specifically and intentionally not been told about. It was the sneaking around and lying that had gotten him into trouble in the first place. He doesn’t get to know what this is, he obviously hadn’t earned it yet. He pulls his phone out of his pocket as he walks. 

“Call Karen,” Matt instructs, feeling guilty all over again. 

He has some penance to do, then he can worry about winning Foggy back.


	2. Evidence

Matt doesn’t track Foggy to the mystery building, or anywhere else, again. The non-action is making him feel a little crazy, but he does it. He takes his frustrations out on the criminal element of Hell’s Kitchen and meditates. A lot. He focuses on fixing the broken parts of their relationship instead and resolves to try to let Foggy keep his secrets if that’s what he wants to do now.

It doesn’t mean that Matt doesn’t leave plenty of openings. 

He comments of Foggy’s increased strength, asks him what he’s up to on certain afternoons, and once even invites him to spar at the guy with him. Foggy plays it off every time, but Matt is nothing if not patient. They’re eating a very classy lunch of bodega sandwiches and fruit slices when Matt brings it up again. 

“So, anything new in your life?” 

Foggy snorts. “Wow, subtle.” 

Matt grins. “Like a punch in the face.” 

Foggy laughs, which Matt appreciates. They had apparently reached the point where Matt could occasionally joke about his nighttime activities. He mentally marks it down as a small but important victory. 

“Why do you ask?” Foggy asks, which is an obvious deflection. Matt tries not to feel too disappointed. 

“I just feel like we don’t really talk much anymore,” Matt says, more honestly than he had intended. He resolves to make the next thing that comes out of his mouth less pathetic. “I know it’s mostly my fault, but I thought we were trying to move forward.” 

_Dammit._ Matt stuffs his mouth with enough cheap sandwich to stop himself from saying anything else. Chews and swallows mechanically. Considers running away but decides against it. 

Foggy makes an odd sound, like a cross between a whine and a groan and Matt winces. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Matt,” Foggy sighs. “We’re fine.” 

“Are we?” Matt asks, more sharply than he had intended. It’s like he can’t stop himself. He didn’t want to have this conversation again, not now. 

Foggy moves, and then he makes a frustrated sound. “I just nodded, and just remembered that you could probably tell. This is what I’m talking about, we’re fine, but I’m working on it.” 

“Working on what?” Matt keeps his voice quiet, non-confrontational. 

“Adjusting,” Foggy says, bluntly. “I’m working on it, making some changes. You kind of threw me for a loop and I know it’s been a few months-”

“Six months,” Matt interrupts, feeling more bitter than hopeful. Foggy is not deterred. 

“ _But_ it’s a process ok?” 

Matt frowns, trying and failing not to be deeply unhappy. “Ok.” 

“Somehow I don’t believe you, but in the spirit of honesty and moving forward I will tell you that yes, there is something new in my life.” 

Somewhat mollified, Matt tilts his head. Something, not someone. “Oh?” 

“I’m rolling my eyes at you. Don’t act like you don’t know.” 

“I don’t, actually.” Matt hesitates. “I thought about finding out on my own. I even started to follow you, but I didn’t.” 

“Oh for the love of- ok.” Foggy drops his food and runs his hands through his hair. “Well, I guess that’s good at least, but you’re not getting a thank you for stopping yourself from doing something you know you shouldn’t have started doing in the first place.” 

“That’s more than fair,” Matt says, smiling again. Foggy has a point, he usually does. “Are you going to tell me?” 

“Are you going to follow me to find out what it is now if I don’t?” 

“No. I won’t.” 

“Good,” He pauses, picking at his food in his lap before speaking again. “It’s Aikido.” 

Matt’s eyebrows fly up. “I’m sorry?” 

“It’s a martial art where-”

“I know what it is, I’m just surprised.” 

Matt can hear Foggy shifting around. “Yeah, well. It makes me feel...better. More in control after everything that went down.” 

Matt nods, because this he actually does understand. “I get that.” 

“I know you do and uh, that’s kind of part of it too.” 

“Me?”

Foggy hums. “Yeah. It makes me, or at least I think it does, helps me understand you more. Which I’ve obviously been struggling with.” 

Matt stays still, his emotions a confused jumble. “You- I, uh.” He shakes his head. “You could have told me, or asked.” 

“This was something I had to do by myself.” Foggy shifts in his chair. “And, uh, I was just embarrassed to be doing something like this.” 

Matt shakes his head fondly. “A venerated martial art?” 

“Well I’m not very good. Not like you anyway.” 

“I’m sure that’s not true.” Matt smiles, even though it probably is and they both know it. “And besides, I don’t know Aikido at all.” 

“Ok I’m rolling my eyes at you again,” Foggy huffs. “You know what I mean.” 

“You could show me sometime, at the gym.” 

Foggy hesitates, and Matt’s heart drops to his stomach. He’s overstepped, Foggy won’t want to share something like this with him. It’s too much of a reminder of the lies. But then Foggy brightens. “Maybe I will.” 

Smiling and satisfied, Matt goes back to his food. “Well, good.” 

“Yeah, good.” 

“Great!” Karen says as she comes through the conference room door. Matt smiles at her and she giggles. “What are we talking about?” 

“Workout plans,” Matt says and hears Foggy quietly huff out a little laugh. 

“Oh.” Karen sounds a little disgusted. Foggy laughs louder. 

“Not all of us can have a perfect metabolism _Karen_ ,” he teases her, slipping right back into his normal self, the tension bleeding away. Matt relaxes too, letting himself rest against the back of the chair. Foggy is going to show him Aikido. They’ll be ok, and maybe in time they’ll even be more. He’s getting worked up about it for no reason. 

“Well, anyway, I was just at the copy room and I found this,” Karen says and a thin stack of paper hits the table which Matt takes to be newspaper. “It’s an article about that woman who got saved from those carjackers. They’re saying it was the man in black.” 

Matt smiles at her insistence to keep calling him ‘the man in black’ but Foggy hums noncommittally, sounding uncomfortable. Matt lurches forward, trying to take the attention onto himself. He doesn’t want Karen to notice anything strange. 

“So, was it him?” Matt asks her, knowing full well that it wasn’t. He had been down by the docks that night doing recon for another project he’s working on. “You’re kind of the resident Daredevil expert here.” 

Foggy laughs, a little too loudly. “Karen’s rolling her eyes at _me_ now Matt.” 

“Turnabout is fair play,” she says, and Matt can hear the smirk in her voice. “And I have no idea. It’s not like he’s the only one on the scene anymore.” 

Matt hums, trying to sound as neutral as possible as Foggy professes to be a particular fan of the woman in red. “Very stylish, I can appreciate that aspect of a vigilante.” 

“She seems ostentatious,” Matt says, still a little put out by Foggy’s easy praise of the woman. Daredevil is very stylish now too. “Of course, then there’s the reports of the violent man with the skull and the less violent one who keeps calling the police.”

“Which one is that?” Karen asks. 

“Just a rumor for now.” One that Matt had been thinking about investigating, but of all the newcomers he is clearly the least threatening. “I read about him online.” 

Karen hums noncommittally and goes back to her food, apparently not as interested in those vigilantes that don’t save her directly. Matt drops it too, eager as always to avoid the subject when Karen is in the room. Lucky for him Foggy is there to pick of the threads of the conversation, leading them easily through the rest of their break. 

After work Matt goes with Foggy back to his place, holding onto his arm when they cross the street mostly for the purpose of gauging how much muscle he’s been developing. There’s a fair bit of it, which is surprising. Matt had never considered Aikido to be a particularly intensive art, though he supposes his view is a little skewed. His standards for intensive workouts include jumping from train cars onto active criminals. 

When they cross the threshold into Foggy’s apartment, which smells strongly of cleaning supplies and not much else, Matt can’t help but bring it up again. He moves to leans against Foggy’s kitchen counter smoothly, not bothering to act as helpless as he would have even a few short months ago. 

“I’m a little relieved that your secret girlfriend turned out to be a martial art and not Marci again.” 

Foggy kind of freezes but then he laughs it off. “No, Marci and I are done for good this time. Amicably though, which makes for a nice change. Besides, secret girlfriend is more your area.”

Matt winces but doesn’t bother to correct Foggy about his relationship with Claire for the fifth time. “I guess. I couldn’t blame you if you did it too though, that would be a little hypocritical.” 

Foggy hums as he pulls something out of the fridge. “Yeah, I guess it would be. You couldn’t really blame me for lying about the same thing you lied to me about right?”

Matt turns in the direction of his voice, smiling ruefully. “Right.”

“I guess you would understand.” 

“Yes,” Matt insists, eager to break down some of these walls. “I would.”

“Well, good.” Foggy laughs and the sound of it uncurls the last of the tension Matt had been holding onto. “But I don’t have a secret girlfriend.” 

Matt stops himself from asking ‘What about a secret boyfriend?’ by getting up and going to the bathroom. He feels pretty good about the state of their relationship at the moment, and he doesn’t want to go and introduce any more chaos into it. Foggy would probably take it as a joke, it’s the kind of joke he would make himself, but it would be strange for Matt to say it and even stranger if Foggy knew how much he cared about the answer. 

Preoccupied as he is in the bathroom, Matt almost doesn't notice the smell. He always tries to ignore the various scents in bathrooms, but this one is strong enough to catch his attention even under the scent of clorox and fabreeze. Blood. 

Frowning, Matt finishes washing his hands and slowly walks back out to the main room. The guilt creeps up, but between Foggy’s privacy and his safety, Matt knows which one he has to chose. He sits down next to Foggy on the couch and starts paying attention. He makes himself focus, to finds the smell under Foggy’s new awful cologne, which he also considered dumping down the sink in the bathroom because it’s pretty terrible, and he can smell it. 

Matt turns to face Foggy head on, genuinely worried now. “Are you hurt?”

Foggy whips around, his heart rate picking up. “What? Why?”

Matt frowns at the worrying response and then goes for honesty. A Foggy response to a Foggy problem. “I smelled blood in the bathroom, it got me worried.”

“Oh,” Foggy says, more slowly than he usually would. “Yeah, I got a scrape. It’s ok though.”

“Are you sure? I can look at it, or we can go visit Claire.”

Foggy laughs. “I do love Claire, but no, I’m all good.”

Matt nods and choses to believe him. For now.


	3. Testimony

Now that he knows to look for it, Matt smells blood on Foggy semi-frequently. It’s subtle, but undeniable. It grates on his nerves, not to mention that fact that Foggy insists on continuing to wear that awful cologne. Every time Matt subtly checks him for more injuries, it’s like getting punched in the face, but he has to keep doing it. To be fair, they’re clearly not major injuries, just scrapes and maybe some bruises under the skin, but Matt doesn’t like it. 

He thinks it’s probably the Aikido. Anyone can fall and get a scrape on a mat, but something in the back of his mind tells Matt that isn’t the answer. It bothers him all day in the office, but when he catches himself wondering about it when he’s supposed to be on patrol, he resolves to do something about it. 

Foggy is usually at the office before Matt, but he almost always forgets his coffee at home. Matt brings him some from the coffee shop down the street and then leans on his doorframe, arms crossed. “So are you ever coming sparring with me? I’d like to see your new moves.” 

Foggy hums as he drinks his coffee and then sets it down. There’s a short pause in which Foggy is clearly considering his response, and Matt’s heart sinks, but then Foggy nods. “Yeah we can do that. When were you thinking?”

His casual tone calms Matt’s nerves a bit. Visions of abusive but careful secret boyfriends and too-dangerous hobbies fade, leaving a much calmer space in their wake. Matt smiles. 

“Whenever you want. I’m pretty free”

“Except when you’re not,” Foggy points out. 

Matt inclines his head, but clings to their more carefree tone. “Well, I wasn’t thinking that we hit the gym in the dead of night. It’s more of a middle of the day kind of an activity.” 

Foggy huff out a little laugh. “That’s true enough. Ok, today then? After work?” 

Matt’s smile broadens. He was just being paranoid. “I’d like that.” 

The rest of the day passes easily, as it usually does when Matt and Foggy are having a good day. Their doors stay open and communication flows easily between the two spaces. Even Karen seems to benefit from the relaxed mood. They get plenty of work done, leaving time for Foggy to laugh and joke with Karen, and for Karen to tease Matt about his filing system. 

“Just give up,” Foggy calls from his office. “Matt won’t change it, and if you even try to make any suggestions he’ll just lie and say it’s a blind thing.”

“It is a blind thing,” Matt lies, smirking when Karen laughs. “I’m blind, and it’s my system, so that makes it a blind thing.” 

“The transitive property does not apply to your messy cabinets!” Foggy cries, and Matt can tell he throws up his hands for good measure. 

“No, I’m pretty sure it does.” 

Karen turns and switches doorways to say something else about Matt’s unique system. Foggy says something back, the arguments the old and good natured ribbing that they had developed over the past months. They’re so familiar, Matt doesn’t even need to listen to the words to understand Foggy’s meaning. 

_This is how it’s supposed to be._ Matt thinks as he makes himself another coffee, listening to Foggy and Karen continuing on in the next room. When he and Foggy are out a balance, the whole office tilts on it’s axis. Matt’s _life_ shifts sideways. But when they’re good, they’re really good. Matt just needs to get back to that place. He broke it, so he can fix it. 

“One Aikido lesson at a time,” he comments to himself, smiling into his coffee cup like an idiot. 

***

As it turns out, Matt doesn’t really like Aikido at all. It’s ridiculous and ultimately not very practical, he reflects as he pushes himself up from the mat. For the fourth time. 

He bounces back and forth on the balls of his feet, just like in boxing. Just like he knows he’s not supposed to do. He shakes his head to clear it, to try to narrow down his focus. “Ok, again.” 

“You sure?” Foggy asks, his tone clearly amused. 

“Yeah let’s go,” Matt says, trying for a light tone as well. It won’t do to get aggressive in front of Foggy. 

“Ok,” Foggy answers, slowly. “Remember, it’s all about-”

“Restraint, I know,” Matt nearly growls, bouncing from foot to foot again. Foggy is mostly still, waiting in ready position. Matt stops his bouncing. 

Foggy is smiling, Matt can tell. Restraint has never been one of Matt’s strong suits. Foggy had said that Aikido is different from boxing and that it’s an acquired skill, but Matt isn’t so sure he wants to acquire it at all. Obviously they had expected a learning curve, but neither of them had thought that he would be so bad at this. 

“Ok, let’s go again then. Try to move me and then we’ll switch and I’ll try you.” He clearly takes the training seriously, even when it’s only a demonstration, which just adds another thing for Matt to respect about him. As far as he knows Foggy had never really taken to any sort of regimented physical activity before, but when he does something, he commits. 

Matt takes a deep breath and charges, aiming for Foggy’s left shoulder. But Foggy moves, redirecting the momentum of Matt’s attack and sending him sailing into the ropes again. Matt bounces off them harmlessly except for the damage to his pride. He turns around and smiles, hopes it’s convincing. 

“Whoops.” 

“It’s ok,” Foggy says, like he’s talking to a student. Matt winces. Of all the ways he thought this day would go, this isn’t one of them. 

Of course, Matt’s attempts to redirect Foggy don’t go that much better. For the most part he just steps out of the way when Foggy attacks, which is fairly effective but not really the point. When he tries to actually follow the technique, he finds himself throwing himself in opposition to Foggy’s energy instead of letting it go by, which is also not the point. Between not wanting to actually hurt Foggy and fighting his instinct to lash out instead of following the forms, it’s one of the most frustrating experiences of Matt’s life. 

Foggy, on the other hand, is really good. Matt might not be able to get his mind around the art, but he can tell that Foggy can, which mean that he really shouldn’t be getting hurt from practice like this. Training doesn’t explain his occasional injuries, Matt thinks as he unwraps the hand guards Foggy had insisted on. 

“You might actually benefit from doing more of this, you know,” Foggy says as they’re zipping up their bags. “Not killing people is a pretty big part of the philosophy.” 

Matt hums noncommittally, still pondering his findings. “Maybe.” 

“I’m serious. I know it’s not an effective way to beat information out of criminals or anything, but if you’re dealing with a big group it might be more efficient.” 

Matt grins at him. “Well when I hit someone, I want them to stay down.” 

“And you want to hit someone. I get it.” Foggy steps out of the ring. Matt follows behind him, sticking close. 

“It’s not that,” Matt says, even though he’s not entirely sure. “It’s not _all_ that. I just don’t think that this art is something I could really use when going after criminals. It’s different when you’re actually out there.” 

Foggy hums. “Yeah, I bet.” 

Matt doesn’t really want to talk about his nighttime activities, so he deflects. “Anyway, thanks for showing this to me.” 

Foggy brightens right away, but that night, Matt still can’t stop wondering about the blood. 

Against his better judgement, he finds himself loitering outside of Foggy’s place late at night, something he had previously decided not to do. He crawls down the fire escape, slowly, determined not to make any noise that will bring Foggy’s attention to the window. But the guilt is quickly drowned out by the fact that Foggy isn’t in his apartment at all. 

Struck by the oddity of it all, Matt pulls out his phone and calls Foggy. He moves efficiently, not letting his mind catch up with his body. The phone rings in Matt’s hand and and then in the apartment. Matt grinds his teeth, frustrated, and hangs up. 

Foggy isn’t there, he can’t get ahold of him, and Matt realizes that has no idea where he might be. 

***

The next day, he asks Foggy about it as casually as he can, but Foggy plays it off. 

“Oh, I must have been asleep in bed when the phone rang. Sorry buddy.” 

Matt freezes. Foggy had just _lied_ to him. Anger and fear rise simultaneously, directed both outward and inward. He can’t call him on it without admitting to stalking him as well, so Matt confronts him on a different issue. 

“You smell like blood again.” 

It’s true, he does. Matt hadn’t noticed it from so far away but it’s there again. Something is clearly going on and Foggy is lying to him about it. Maybe he has been for a long time. 

Foggy scoffs. “I thought we talked about you not violating my privacy!” 

Matt curls his hand into a fist, letting his fingernails bite into his palm. He holds it there so he doesn’t reach out and grab Foggy by the front of the shirt or something equally awful. “I know. I’m just really worried about you. This isn’t normal, and I don’t think it’s from the sparring.” 

“I-” Foggy’s heart rate spikes and Matt leans forward, alarmed. 

“Foggy. What’s going on?” Matt asks, but he can tell Foggy is shaking his head. Matt rips his glasses off and runs a hand over his face, torn between anger and panic. “If you-” 

“Ok, fine. You’re not crazy. Yes, there’s something going on. I’ll come to your apartment tonight and we’ll talk,” Foggy says, very quickly. 

Matt freezes, partly horrified at Foggy’s admission that something is wrong but mostly relieved. At the very least it’s more than he thought he was going get. He doesn’t know what to say so he doesn’t say anything as Foggy goes back into his office, and they don’t say another word to each other until the end of the day. Yesterday's ease seems far away. He can’t think of how he achieved it. Matt listens as Foggy gathers up his things, unsure about whether or not he should try to follow him out the door or not. It seems like he’s always unsure about Foggy now. 

Foggy stops in the doorway of his office. Matt looks up but doesn’t move, doesn’t even breathe. Finally Foggy seems to relax slightly and sticks his hands in his pockets. 

“What time is good for you? For me to come over, I mean.” 

“Anytime.” Matt says, right away. 

Foggy sighs. “Ok. Ten?” 

“Sure,” Matt says, in what he hopes is a casual, not tormented sounding tone. It’s good he has a few hours before he and Foggy talk. He feels like he either needs to go see his priest or punch something. Maybe both. 

His mind is clouded as he walks home, so much so that he almost walks out into open traffic. It’s embarrassing, especially when the man who started yelling at him for being stupid stops and apologizes when he sees that Matt is blind. It only winds Matt up more. He feels like a mechanical soldier about to rattle off a desk and clatter to the floor. In the end, he settles for frantically doing pushups in the middle of his living room and meditating. He sits in lotus pose from six to ten, but Foggy doesn’t show up. 

At a quarter past, Matt gets up and heads for Foggy’s apartment. He doesn’t bother with calling this time, it only keeps them farther apart. They need to talk, really talk. 

His heart pounds and his hands sweat as he slowly makes his way up Foggy’s stairs. The building elevator is broken, which is something Foggy always complains about. Matt’s grateful for it, especially since he feels like he’s about to get broken up with somehow, despite the fact that they aren't actually together. 

“Matt?”

His head whips up and he frowns, placing the voice right away but not understanding the context. “Claire? What are you doing here?”

She’s about ten steps above him and hesitating. “I- You should talk to Foggy about that.” 

He raises an eyebrow at her, trying not to feel hurt as the pieces come together. So much for no secret girlfriend. Matt stands up a little straighter and tries to will away his sinking heart. In a way it makes sense. The two best people he knows would be together. 

“Have you been talking to Foggy?” he asks, trying to make his tone playful and failing miserably. 

Claire still hasn’t moved, which isn’t like her. She doesn’t usually avoid confrontation. To be honest, none of this is really like her, but Matt supposes that love makes people do crazy things. Too late he realizes that it doesn’t explain the blood. He cocks his head, trying to make sense of it. 

“Claire? Is-” 

“Foggy was shot,” Claire says suddenly, and very quickly. “Grazed, really, but still. He’ll be fine but you need to talk to him.” 

Matt stands stock still, mind refusing to accept it. Clare walks forward a few more steps, gently calling his name. She gets close, and then he smells blood. By now he’s familiar enough with the scent of it to recognize the mix of metal and sweetness that makes up Foggy’s particular scent. He shakes his head. 

Shot. Foggy had been shot, and he hadn’t called 911. He didn’t go to the hospital. 

Matt can think of one, and only one, good reason for that decision because he makes it himself all the time. 

“No.” 

Claire sighs. “Matt-” 

“I have to go,” Matt manages, and then he’s pushing past her and running up the rest of the stairs. If she calls after him, he doesn’t hear it. All he can really hear is the blood rushing in his ears and his own heart pounding. But when he’s outside of Foggy’s door, he can hear him too. He can smell the blood. 

Matt’s hands shake as he tries to identify the one key on his ring that he had never used before, finally identifying it as the one with the ‘F’ engraved. He drops the keys while trying to open the door, overcome with a tangle of emotions that he can’t be bothered to sort through, stuck on the one point of realization that should have been obvious. Finally, he gets it open and closed again and then he’s in Foggy’s living room, listening to Foggy try to sit up. 

“Yeah, I probably should have known that I was tempting fate by going out the night I was supposed to tell you but-” 

“What the hell are you doing!” Matt yells and Foggy jumps, startled. 

“Uh, excuse me, but-”

“No.” Matt walks forward, stopping next to the couch. The smell is strongest here, permeating into the air and making Matt sick to his stomach. “No! I can’t believe you would do this after everything you-”

“Me?” Foggy gets to his feet, and Matt can sense immediately where he’s injured. Where he’d been shot. “What about you, Matt? You of all people-”

“I can handle it!” Matt lurches forward, putting himself in Foggy’s space. He only means to get close, but Foggy startles, and then hisses, clutching his side. Matt feels all the blood drain from his face. “Foggy?”

Foggy lets out a sharp breath and holds one hand up. “It’s ok, just hurts.” 

Matt’s hands fly to hold his shoulders seemingly of their own accord, guiding Foggy to sit back down. They’re shaking so badly with fear and repressed rage he can hardly manage it. “Here, sit here.” 

Muttering, Foggy does what he says, settling back against the couch Matt had helped him pick out. It’s probably stained with blood now. Matt follows him down automatically, kneeling in the space between his knees so he can press his hand over the wound. Foggy hisses and leans away, but Matt follows, jaw set in a hard line. 

“It’s fine Matt, Claire did a good job.” 

“She always does,” Matt responds curtly, but continues his investigation. None of it seems real. He can’t believe that she would keep this from him. That either of them would. The injury is more of a deep graze than a proper gunshot wound, but it must have hurt like hell. He leans back slightly but doesn’t get up, feeling like he’d been gutted. “Foggy.”

“I know.” 

“You lied to me.” 

Foggy laughs and his grip tightens where he’s got a hold on the shoulder of Matt’s shirt for support. “Yeah? Cry me a river on that one buddy.” 

Matt bares his teeth, blood boiling and hands shaking again. There’s some kind of tornado going on in his brain, scrambling up his thoughts and leaving only one in the eye of the storm. He feels like he’s on the edge of an explosion or a collapses, vacillating from one to the other. 

“Foggy,” he nearly growls, and then stops himself, trying to remember the stakes, why he needs to be convincing now more than ever. This is more important than any test, than every case. 

“Foggy,” Matt starts again, more evenly this time. “You have to stop.”

A sigh brushes his face. “No, I don’t.” 

“Yes, you do!” Matt yells, unable to help it. 

Foggy is shaking his head. “Look, I don’t like this any more than you claim to, but you were right.” 

“What?” Matt breathes out, feeling like Foggy might as well have punched him in the stomach. “Me?” 

“Matt, come on.”

“Right about what?” Matt demands, fingers tightening again, trying to hold Foggy still. To keep him with him. 

“When I found you at the gym after the funeral you said, ‘what about Elena?’ You said, ‘if you could have put on a mask and prevented what happened to her, are you telling me you wouldn’t have?’ And you were right, ok-” 

“No, not ok-” Matt tries to say, but Foggy is continuing on without him, talking through what Matt apparently did far too job convincing him of. 

“-and I said, that’s not fair. But it _was_ fair, it was a fair question and-”

“No!” Matt jumps up like he’d been slapped, shaking his head reflexively. He feel like he’s been burned, like there are actual scorch marks on his skin, inside his head. This is what hell is like, it has to be. He turn away, then turn back again. “This isn’t what I meant and you know it.” 

Foggy waves a hand. “Yeah, obviously. I know you meant you. I get that, but it doesn’t change the fact that there’s more that I can do too.” 

“Then become a volunteer firefighter,” Matt says through his teeth. A scream is building in his chest, but he knows he can’t do much more yelling before someone calls the police. “Be a _lawyer_ Foggy.”

“That’s not good enough for me anymore.” 

“Foggy-”

“No Matt!” Foggy yells, loudly and for the first time. Matt flinches back and Foggy just keeps going. “This isn’t up to you!” 

Matt turns away, pacing and shaking and torn between crying and putting his fist through a wall. He chooses the more immediately satisfying option before dissolving into the inevitable.


	4. Damages

Matt wakes up on Foggy’s couch disoriented and residually afraid. It doesn’t take him long to remember why. He rolls onto his back and frowns in the direction of the bedroom door, making the effort to focus in on Foggy’s steady heartbeat. Still alive, and apparently awake, judging by his breathing. 

“Foggy,” Matt says at normal volume and hears Foggy shift in bed. 

“Matt?”

“I’m coming, one second,” he calls back to try to stop Foggy from getting up and pulling at his stitches. He’s not like Matt, not used to having them all the time. Matt rolls off the couch and pads into Foggy’s room, barefooted and wearing only one of Foggy’s old college t-shirts and his underwear. The shirt had smelled like him last night, taking Matt back to their little dorm room. He hadn’t been willing to go home at all last night, not even to pick up spare clothes, too afraid that something will happen Foggy. Something else that Matt also won’t see coming. 

Foggy is quiet for a long moment, clearly staring at Matt, who holds himself still and silent as well. Eventually, Foggy sighs. 

“Come here.”

Matt walks forward until his knees brush the edge of the bed and then stops, frowning. “Ok?” 

“No, come here.”

“In the bed?”

“Yes, genius. I’m in pain and I don’t want to be talking to you lording over me. Also I think if we're both lying down there might be less wall punching.” 

Matt tries to smile. “Might.”

Foggy snorts. “Not funny yet.”

He drops it. “Sorry.” 

“Honestly, I hope so buddy. That wasn’t so great.” 

Matt bites his lip to avoid commenting that neither is Foggy’s misguided vigilantism. That kind of thing doesn’t fit in well with his resolution to be both reasonable and properly convincing this time, two things which he knows Foggy generally responds well to. He climbs into the bed without complaint, deftly placing himself directly next to Foggy, laying down but not touching. 

“This is a blast from the past,” Foggy muses quietly, reaching down to run his fingers through Matt’s hair just like he would when Matt was hungover and needed it. He certainly needs it now. 

Matt leans into the touch, grateful to get even this after the wall incident. He wants to wrap his arm around Foggy’s waist and go back to sleep, holding him there. But they need to have this talk and Matt has the sinking suspicion that he won’t be able to sleep without knowing that Foggy won’t be getting shot at again. 

He turns his head so that he’s facing Foggy, his hair still caught between his fingers. “If what you’re doing is supposed to teach me a lesson, consider me punished.”

Foggy sighs and pulls his hand back. “No, Matt. It’s not.” 

“Then what?” Matt asks, successfully keeping his voice down this time. 

There’s a long silence, and Matt makes himself wait, makes himself feel all of this. His hand inches closer and closer to Foggy’s side, but he doesn’t touch. Foggy might move away, which might kill him, or he might brush the wound which could have actually killed his best friend. 

_Shot._ Foggy had been shot. Matt’s throat starts to close up again, but he steadies his breathing, focuses. 

“I’ve been where you are, you know.” 

“I know.” 

“You seem to have burned through the anger part pretty quickly.” 

“It might come back,” Matt admits. 

“Yeah. Been there too.” Foggy’s head settles against the wall. “The Aikido helped with that a lot.” 

“Is that why you started it?” Matt asks, only a little accusingly.

“No,” Foggy says, right away, snapping right back to his previous, more honest self. The one Matt had understood. “I planned the vigilantism first. The Aikido was an insurance policy once I started taking it really seriously.” 

Matt lets out a harsh breath and turns his face into Foggy’s pillow. He can tell that Foggy is watching him, but he doesn’t move. Resigned, Matt turns back and sits up, back at Foggy’s level. 

“You said-” Matt has to stop to collect himself. “You said you were doing this, the Aikido, to understand me.” 

“Matt I swear to god if you make this about you one more time I will punch you in the face ok?” 

“Ok,” Matt says at a near whisper. “Are you ok?” 

Foggy lets out a deep breath. “I’m fine.” 

“You’re not. You got shot.” 

“Grazed, yeah, and you got stabbed like a million times.” 

“It’s not the same.”

“No, one is clearly worse,” Foggy gripes and pokes Matt in the side, right where Nobu had hooked him. 

It doesn’t hurt, the wound is long healed, but Matt groans. He wants to fight back, but he’s tired. Fighting with Foggy about this is somehow worse than all of their previous fights combined. 

“What do we do now?” Matt asks, desperate for answers, even just the immediate ones. 

Foggy shrugs. “Go to work I guess.” 

Matt frowns. “Be serious please.”

“I am!” Foggy insists brightly, obviously trying to act normal and vastly overdoing it. “You think we can afford to take the day off? In this economy?”

Matt shakes his head. “You got shot.”

“Again, that’s funny coming from you.” 

“Foggy-”

Foggy’s hand closes over his shoulder, stopping him. “No, Matt. I’m going to work, you do whatever it is you need to do.” 

Matt presses his lips together, not trusting himself to speak. Foggy gets out of bed, only a little stiffly. Matt listens in, but the wound doesn’t seem to be any worse or significantly hurting him. He burrows further into the bed, resisting. 

Foggy steps into the bathroom and class out. “Do you need to borrow a tie?”

Matt can only nod, miserable and somehow back to where he’d started an hour ago. 

***

The sound of Foggy’s shower seem to mock him with its normalcy. Foggy hums, just like he always does, but now it seems like an inversion. Some kind of discordant tune that Matt doesn't understand. Matt used to love hearing Foggy hum in the shower. Sometimes he even sings, and though he’d never been good, he’d been Matt’s. 

They really should go to work though, so he makes himself move. Matt uses the time spent getting dressed to develop a new strategy. By the time they’re on their way to the office, he has it perfected. 

“What about Karen?”

Foggy doesn’t flinch. “What about her?”

“Well,” Matt says, pretending to bump into a woman. Foggy sighs and grabs his arm. Matt leans into his touch, relieved. “You don’t want to hurt her, do you? Trust me, this life-”

“Karen knows. I told her pretty much right away.” 

Matt nearly walks into someone for real this time, and falls silent. Oddly, the only thing he can really come up with is that he’s glad he’s never had to face down Foggy in the courtroom. 

“Oh,” He finally manages. 

“Yeah, oh.” 

“Well that’s...I see.” 

“Do you?”

Matt frowns. A horrible possibility occurs to him. 

“Foggy,” Matt says lowly, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. “Does- does she know about...”

“Yeah, Matt.” 

It’s like an icicle has been lodged in Matt’s chest, fear and betrayal that he’s not sure will ever melt. On top of everything else, Karen knows. 

“How?”

“I didn’t tell her if that’s what you’re asking, but she’s been waiting for you to tell her yourself.” 

Matt doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he keeps his jaw clenched and his grip on Foggy’s arm tight. Embarrassment burns down his skin, hot and uncomfortable. How many times had Karen dropped hints that he ignored the same way that Foggy ignored Matt’s? He feels like an idiot. He probably is an idiot. 

They walk in silence for a few more minutes, the sound of Foggy’s steady heart the only thing keeping Matt even remotely grounded. 

“Hey Matt?” Foggy bumps Matt’s shoulder with his own, clearly thinking that the worst is done. Matt unclenches his jaw and lets him, for now. 

“Yeah?

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but why are you this upset?”

Matt shakes his head. “You got hurt.” 

“Besides that.” 

Matt frowns. “What do you mean?” 

“Come on.” 

Matt turns his face away. He is upset, because this was not how it was supposed to be. Matt hadn’t planned for this. Now that Foggy knows his secrets, Matt was supposed to be allowed to start winning him over. Without the lies, it’s not wrong to want Foggy to love him. He can move forward, build their future. 

It never occurred to him that he would infect Foggy like this. Now he has to start all over. He can’t have Foggy because right now he has to focus on keeping Foggy alive. 

“I don’t know.” 

Foggy sighs. “Fine.” 

“No it’s not,” Matt says, very quietly. If Foggy hears him, he doesn’t give any sign. They walk the rest of the way in silence. 

The office is bad. Matt finds himself vacillating between fury and fear. At one point a pen explodes in his hand in front of a client because he was gripping it too tightly. Foggy keeps going on like nothing had happened, so that’s what Matt tries to do, but it’s hard. He’s sure the clients notice. The fedex guy leaves the braille paper he ordered on the chair next to his door rather than come all the way inside his office. Worst of all, simply being in the same space as Karen is mortifying. 

Finally it’s time to go home, which presents a different problem. Does going home means going back to his home or Foggy’s? Matt’s fingers itch to grab Foggy and go, to just bring him back to his apartment and try to reason with him again. But it’s Thursday, which is the day that Foggy goes home to have dinner with his parents. Allegedly. Matt’s not sure that Foggy would lie about that, but he’s not really sure about anything right now either. 

Foggy waves goodbye to him on his way out the door but doesn’t say anything about his plans. Matt doesn’t know what to do, so he does what he knows. He goes home, pulls out the suit, puts it on and hits the street while trying not to think about Foggy maybe doing the same.


	5. Appeal

It’s chilly up on the roof. Even though it’s April, spring already, it’s still cold at night. Matt barely feels it, too focused on his target to notice his own bodily discomforts. He leans against the water tower, hoping he’s blending into the shadows enough not to be seen. 

Of course, stealth is really only effective if your mark doesn’t already know they’re being followed. 

“I know you’re there.” 

Resigned, Matt takes a few steps forwards and drops onto Foggy’s roof. “Hey.” 

Foggy scoffs. “Don’t ‘hey’ me, you’re ruining my stealthy vibe up here. I’m supposed to be basically invisible unless absolutely necessary.”

Matt shakes his head. “Are you saying I’m conspicuous?”

“Let’s just say I’m giving your bright red S and M outfit a very saucy once over right now.” 

“It’s an effective mechanism for inspiring fear.”

“I’m sure,” Foggy says, and he sounds so normal it makes Matt’s chest hurt. They might as well be bantering at the office. 

“What are you doing up here Foggy?” Matt asks, even though he had resolved not to this time. 

“Me? Neighborhood watch.” Foggy moves and something plastic joggles in his hand. Matt cocks his head. Binoculars. “You’re the one following me around like a sad dog right now, what are you even doing here?”

“Making sure you don’t get shot.”

Foggy shrugs. “I’ve tried it, it’s not so bad.”

Matt grits his teeth to keep from yelling. 

Foggy laughs, a little nervously. “Ok, to be fair, that was a lie. It was pretty bad.”

“So you-”

“Probably not as bad as getting shanked and dragged around by a ninja though.” 

“That was-” Matt stops himself, turning his head as though he had just heard something important. Foggy doesn’t buy it. 

“Worth it?” 

Matt turns back. “Yes,” He grinds out, irritated. “It was worth it for me, because I have the training, and the skill set, to-” 

“Will you stop talking like I’m doing the same stuff you’re doing? I’m not going to try to do a backflip off the roof and fight those guys down there, I’m gathering intelligence, evidence, just like we always do, only this time it’s technically illegally obtained,” Foggy hisses, gesturing down at the alley below. 

“I liked you better when you didn’t break the law at all,” Matt shoots back, and immediately regrets it. He’s not even sure it’s true. He knows he liked their relationship more, but Foggy? 

“I feel like you know the obvious response there is-”

“Yeah, I know.” 

“Well, great. As long as we have that cleared up.” 

“Fine," Matt grinds out, and leans against the air duct, recrossing his arms. Foggy is quiet for a minute, fiddling with the binoculars and occasionally looking back in Matt’s direction. 

“Ok but doesn’t you following me around all the time take away from your own illegal activities? Don’t you have gang members to be punching right now?” 

He does, but Matt shrugs. “I wear this to keep people safe. You’re a person.” 

“Not the same thing.” 

“You’re right, so if you just stop-”

“Matt, come on. I’m not in that much danger.” 

“Once again, this coming from the man who got shot not three-”

“I was lightly grazed.” 

“That doesn’t matter!” Matt yells, even though he had decided not to yell at all this time. On the street below them, people freeze, then they start moving again. 

“Wonderful.” Foggy says dryly. 

“I didn’t- we should go.”

“Yeah, let’s get out of here,” Foggy says, throwing his surveillance stuff back into his bag with quick, efficient movements. “Unlike you, I don’t mess around with odds like that.” 

“Good," Matt whispers, listening in on the men below. They would be next to nothing for Matt to take on, but he’s not so sure about Foggy. Being able to redirect someone onto a matt in a gym isn’t the same as a real fight. None of them had made a move for the fire escape yet, but even so, he wants Foggy out of there. 

Somewhat to his surprise, Foggy leaves through the building. His outfit is black, so he stuffs his mask in the bag, pulls out a grey hoodie and throws it on. It’s not a terrible idea, if Matt’s honest, and similar to his own original disguise. The obvious drawback of wearing street clothes is that he has little to no protection. Matt worries the entire time that Foggy is out of his sight, even though he can hear both him and the guys he was watching. He waits for Foggy two alleys over, trying to calm his racing heart. 

He gets nothing done that night, not even sleep. 

***

Somehow, the office is worse than ever. For Matt. Foggy is apparently fine with everything that’s going on and Karen seems willfully oblivious. 

They’re having lunch, Matt in his office and Foggy with Karen at her desk. It’s uncomfortable. They won’t stop talking. 

“I just don’t think there are enough super heroines,” Foggy says, and Matt can hear the smile in his voice. He curls his hand around his spoon tighter, trying and failing to ignore him even as Karen giggles. 

“I mean this is the twenty first century! What about secretary by day, crime fighter by night?” 

Karen takes a breath, no doubt to say something equally asinine, but Matt beats her too it. “This isn’t a joke, Foggy.” 

A chair squeaks as Foggy leans back to look at him. “I’m just saying she’d make a super cute super heroine. She could really make an outfit work.”

Karen hums and Matt is pretty sure she’s smiling. The spoon bends right out of shape and Matt sets it down on the desk as carefully as he can. “Thanks Foggy.” 

“Yeah like you have the cheekbones for a mask for sure.” 

Matt growls and punches his desk. He doesn’t even try to stop himself. It’s cheap, and his hand goes through it. As soon as he makes contact, Karen jumps, letting out a little yell and scrambling up to come look, but Foggy scoffs. 

Karen stops in the doorway, heart pounding. “Matt? Are you ok?” 

Foggy stops right behind her. “Ok big guy, let’s just go before you give Karen a heart attack.”

“It’s ok,” Karen whispers, and Matt abruptly feels terrible. He runs his hands through his hair, trying to ground himself. 

“No, just, I’m sorry. Can we talk?” 

Foggy hums, clearly irritated. “I’m not sure I really want to-” 

Matt puts his hands up. “I meant Karen.” 

“Oh.” Foggy shifts, probably looking at her. She moves too. Shrugging, maybe. Small movements are more difficult for him to track. “Yeah, good. I'll be downstairs.” 

Matt puts his hands down and on his hips as Foggy gathers up his food and leaves. Karen doesn't say anything. He waits for Foggy to be really gone, all be way down to the street, and she still stays quiet. Finally, with Foggy safe and relatively far, standing on the corner down the street, Matt assumes, he turns to her. 

“I'm sorry,” He says, quietly, realizing all at once that he doesn't really know what he's apologizing for. Everything, maybe. 

Karen hums and walks into the room, something Matt had been afraid she wouldn't do. “You already said that.” 

Matt nods. “Yeah. I meant it.” 

“Ok.” Karen walks over to where Matt is standing and sits down on the top of his now ruined desk. She reaches down and Matt can hear her fingers against the cracked wood. He winces. 

“I'm also sorry about the desk.” 

“What were you sorry about before?” She asks lightly, inviting him to answer. She had done this a lot he realizes, asked him questions she already knew the answers to. He had heard this tone before. 

He reaches up and rubs at his face. “A lot. For lying to you. For listening to your heart without permission. For-”

“What?” Karen asks, apparently genuinely confused. “You can hear my heart?” 

Matt hesitates, feeling like his feet are stuck to the floor, like he can’t get out. Foggy hadn't told her that. He probably hadn't told her any of it, not about Matt. She’s smart, she figured it out. “I- the way that I can get around the way I do. The way that I fight.” 

Karen isn’t moving, but her heart rate has picked up significantly again. Matt takes a deep breath, and tells her everything he had resolved not to tell anyone, that he had promised Stick he would never say, to a third person. She takes it well, all things considered, with only minimal heavy breathing. After, she stands and gets them both coffee, ignoring Matt when he tell her he doesn’t need any. 

“Just-” She waves a hand vaguely, then freezes. “Can you? Can you tell what I just did?”

“Yes.” 

“Ok.” She turns and goes into the kitchen area. Matt stays where he is, focusing in on the street below. Foggy is there, a comforting presence that until very recently Matt had taken for granted. Sort of like Karen, who is struggling to fill the coffeepot. 

“Dammit, never mind,” Karen mutters and comes back empty handed. Matt raises his head and waits, but she doesn’t sit. 

“Are you- can I get you anything?” Matt asks, feeling helpless. 

“No, no.” Karen shakes her head, or nods. “I’m just processing.” 

“I thought you knew,” Matt says, and then shakes his head. “Well, I thought you knew about the mask, which I assume led you to other conclusions.” 

“I did! I knew, but I didn’t really know, you know?” 

“Right.” 

“Sorry, I’m not trying to make you feel-” She waves a hand in the air, still awkwardly standing in front of him. “You know.” 

Matt smiles. “Foggy threatened to beat me up.”

Karen gasps, her hand flying up to her mouth. Then she giggles. “No he didn’t!” 

“He did. I deserved it.” 

“Matt,” Karen admonishes. 

“I really am sorry Karen.” 

“It’s ok.” 

“It’s not,” Matt says, and means it. Somehow being on the other side of this particular argument is clarifying Foggy’s points to him. “What do you need me to do to make it up to you?” 

Karen is silent for a long time. After a while, Matt pushes her chair out with his foot and she laughs self consciously before sitting in it. “We have to be really careful not to out you now.” 

“I trust you.” 

She huffs out a little laugh. “I hope I can live up to that.” 

“Me too, if you can trust me again.” 

“I do. You saved me.” 

“I save a lot of people, but I don’t usually know them and I don’t have to lie to them.” 

Karen hums and crosses her legs. “How do you think this is going to end, Matt?” 

He shifts in his seat, suddenly and uncomfortably reminded of too astute nuns at the orphanage. “What do you mean?” 

“Don’t do that, you said you wanted to make it up to me. Give me some truth here.” 

Matt turns his head and listens to Foggy’s heartbeat steady and strong on the street to ground him. He’s probably talking to someone he knows, someone he’d been kind to in the past. He has people all over the city. Soon he’ll have enemies all over too. 

“I guess there are essentially three options.” 

“Prison, death, and retirement?” Karen guesses. 

“Right,” Matt says, stiff and uncomfortable. 

“Where do you think you’ll land?” 

“I don’t know,” Matt says, going for honesty. He can’t imagine retiring. He’ll keep going until he’s stopped. 

“There’s an obvious preferable choice,” Karen responds quietly, sounding very much like Foggy. 

Matt shakes his head. “Yes but-” He stops, thinking. “Where do you think Foggy will land?” 

“Hopefully with you.” 

Matt frowns, trying to make the two conflicting pictures come together. They can, he knows, but it depends mostly on him and his ability to fix everything. Starting with Karen. He nods. 

“What else do you want to know?” 

***

When he finally comes down to the street Foggy is still waiting for him, though he had moved to the new coffee shop across the road. Matt tracks him there, smoothly sliding into his booth. 

“Testing me?” 

Foggy nudges him with his knee. “Only a little.” 

“Bring it on, I’m pretty good at passing tests.” 

Foggy laughs, making Matt smile for what feels like the first time in weeks. 

Moments like these make it seem like nothing is wrong. Foggy makes it too easy for Matt to pretend that they aren’t both putting their lives at risk on a regular basis, and Foggy even more so than Matt. It’s unlivable, but very tempting to pretend it isn’t happening, especially when he has Foggy here and not mad at him for a change. 

Foggy pushes his still mostly full cup away, the cheap porcelain scraping across the plastic table top. “I’m all done here, do you want anything?” 

“No, we can go.” 

“Is Karen coming?” Foggy asks as they both stand and make their way out. Matt bumps into someone he should be able to tell is coming and can almost feel Foggy roll his eyes before he takes his arm to ‘guide’ him. 

“No, she said she wanted some time.” 

“Reasonable.” 

“Very,” Matt murmurs as they cross the street, thinking back on their conversation. It hadn’t been pleasant, but he feels more weightless than he had in ages, especially around her. In fact, every time his relationship with both of them had improved, it had been after he was honest. 

“You guys work everything out?” 

Matt nods, still thinking. “Yeah, I think so.” 

Foggy stares at him for several seconds, but then he shrugs. “Ok, do you want Chinese? I think we’re probably done with work for today.”

Matt is hit with a wave of affection for him, and then certainty. He stops walking, pulling Foggy back. Foggy sputters and nearly trips, but Matt keeps him upright. “Um, hey?” 

“Foggy,” Matt says, resolve strengthened by his conversation with Karen and the fact that it’s not like Matt can experience anything worse than finding Foggy shot. “Can I be honest with you again?”

Foggy laughs, clearly nervous. “Sure, if you think I can take it.” 

“I hope so.” 

“Ok, shoot.” 

“I love you.” 

Foggy’s breathing stutters. There’s a long moment of silence that Matt expected, and then Foggy gasps. “What- why- we’re in the middle of the street Matt!” 

Matt grins, feeling a little lightheaded. “I know, but after everything that happened with me and now with you I just think that-” 

“Ok, no. What the hell Matt?” He puts his hands on Matt’s chest, like he’s going to push him away, but then he doesn’t. He lets out a harsh breath, his hand sliding from Matt’s chest to grip the back of his neck. They just stand there like that, in the middle of the sidewalk, for several heartbeats. Foggy’s is pounding, Matt’s isn’t far behind. Then Foggy shakes his head, like he’s clearing it. “Just- pause. We need to go to your apartment. Ok?”

“Ok.” 

They go.


	6. Counsel

It went well. Better than Matt had expected, if he’s honest. 

Not that it fixed the problems. Foggy still insists on going out a night, still somehow considers his safely to be secondary. It’s maddening. 

Matt tries to be civilized about the whole thing, tries to look at is as a lawyer, someone who understands dispute. 

Finally getting Foggy had only driven home the fear that he could really lose Foggy over the issue, which is one of the last things he wants. It’s becoming increasingly clear that the more Matt bothers Foggy, the more irritated Foggy gets. The danger of Foggy leaving him is becoming more and more real, and he only just got him. 

But Foggy is making it hard. Apparently, from his perspective, they had worked out all the issues. The underlying romantic and sexual tension had been resolved, so they should be fine now. On the whole, he’s positive about them dating but still refuses to see the issues with his nighttime activities that Matt sees. 

It’s a puzzle Matt can’t solves yet, quietly infuriating him as they walk home from another night out, Matt trailing Foggy rooftop to rooftop while Foggy takes the sidewalk like the normal person he is. Together but not. Matt scowls, up where Foggy can’t see. His latest strategy for stopping him had not been effective. Apparently it doesn’t matter if Foggy doesn’t actually find any criminals on a given night, he still goes out the next, and the next, until he does. 

The gap between his building and the next is too wide, so Matt drops down to a fire escape, swinging himself easily to the next one so he can climb back up. When he pulls himself up to the next roof, he notices that Foggy had stopped moving by the fact that he had started walking again. Waiting for him. 

Matt huffs out a short laugh, shaking his head. Considerate even when sneaking home after a night of non existent crime fighting. It’s ridiculous, like so much of him. Nice almost to the point of parody. Matt smirks and keeps going, eager to get home. Being in his apartment had taken on a significantly more fun connotation since he first told Foggy how he felt. Between being closer to the office and being the safest place for them to store their respective criminal gear, it’s where they spend most of their time now. 

That first day, after Matt’s abrupt declaration, the talking hadn’t lasted long before the kissing started. Matt had wound up pushed up against his own door with Foggy’s mouth pressed to his, exasperated, apparently pleased, and beyond words. Matt pressed back against the door and let Foggy take control, tilting his head to the side helpfully and accepting everything he wanted to give. 

“Jesus, Matt.” Foggy broke away and muttered into his neck. “Of course this is how you-” 

Matt cut him off by catching his lips with his own, pressing insistently. Foggy hummed back in response, apparently satisfied with the distraction. Walking backwards into the main room, Matt ran his hands up Foggy’s back, pulling his shirt up as he moved. 

“Show off,” Foggy shot back, but followed him eagerly down to the couch. 

Matt grinned up at him before tugging him back down by the shirt collar to run his tongue along Foggy’s bottom lip. They hadn’t gone much farther that day, content to explore each other slowly, in pieces. Foggy had taken to calling it a college fantasy come to life. 

“And I intend to see it all the way through,” Foggy commented a different day, maybe a week later, running his hands through Matt’s hair. They had found themselves on the couch again, legs entwined. “I’m talking multiple make out sessions, possibly a shower scene.” 

Matt had laughed into his neck. Desire hummed in his veins, but at a comfortable pace, urging him to draw Foggy closer, but not demanding anything. It had been pleasant more than urgent, the product of so many years together. His body is familiar, even now that it had changed. Matt knows the curve of his neck, running down from his ear to his shoulder. He knows the feel of Foggy’s arms around him. He’s so familiar it almost hurts, but now Matt wants to become the expert he thought he always was. 

Smirking, he had rucked Foggy’s shirt up to touch skin, forgetting somehow that there was a recent addition to the landscape. The scar tissue felt strange and unwelcome under his fingers. Matt bit his lip, hard, before talking again. Lawyer. 

“What if we...started over? This could be new.” 

Foggy snorted. “Nope. You can’t just say you love me and have like, ten years of everything we’ve been through just go away Matt. “

“You don’t love me too?” Matt teased, the fact that they were horizontal and days into finally together making it pretty easy for him to do so. Still, his heart pounded until Foggy answered him. 

“You know I do. But this doesn’t change-”

Matt groaned and buried his head in the couch pillow, shutting it out. 

They had yet to really move past that point, too distracted with each other and otherwise busy with the firm to debate the relative merits of vigilantism and fresh starts. Matt clenches and unclenches his hands just thinking about it, taking the last gap between buildings at a running leap and landing easily. The roof access door to his apartment is unlocked just as he left it and much to Foggy’s continual and vocal dismay. But as Matt has explained to him many times, he’s not really concerned about the intruders who would be stopped by a locked door, and Foggy relented. Compromise. 

Foggy is still making his way up the stairs when Matt gets in, giving him time to take off most of the complicated pieces of his armor and pull out two beers for them. Foggy walks right in as Matt is pouring his into a chilled glass, the presumption making him smile. 

“But don’t you think that it might be easier to change in and out of your outfit on the go instead of going home in it? What if someone sees you?” Foggy asks, as though they had already been talking. In a way they had, but it had been a few days since they bothered to pick up the thread. 

Matt shrugs and hands him the glass. “Hasn’t happened.” 

Foggy snorts. “Wow. What a compelling argument, councillor. Well done.” 

Matt takes a swipe at him with his foot, one that Foggy dodges easily. He wouldn’t have been able to before, but things had changed. It’s a confusing thought, one too bracketed by conflicting emotions for the moment, so Matt sets it aside, taking a sip from the beer he doesn’t want anymore. 

“What’s with the face?” 

Matt shakes his head. “Just tired.” 

“Well, good news. You’re in your own apartment with your very snuggly boyfriend, so you’ll probably be able to fix that soon.” 

Matt smirks and wanders over to the couch, dropping down on it heavily since he doesn’t have to be light anymore. “Is he going to join me down here?” 

He can hear the smile in Foggy’s voice when he responds. “I guess so.” 

They mold together, Foggy’s arm going around his shoulder, casual in its intimacy. Matt settles in, temporarily at peace. Foggy, of course, perks up and ruins it immediately. 

“Can I wear your outfit sometime? Let’s trade outfits.” 

Matt sighs and turns his face into Foggy’s shoulder, the spell broken. “Can I throw yours away afterwards?” 

“Uh, no! I love my outfit. I made it with my own two hands.” 

Matt licks his lips. “What if I get you a completely new, nicer one? For work.” He tries to tease but it comes out serious. 

Foggy smiles anyway, Matt can tell. “Daytime or nighttime work?” 

“Daytime Foggy, please,” Matt says, and he doesn’t like how his voice sounds, all small and weak, but he likes having Foggy out there even less. Foggy runs his fingers through Matt’s hair, all gentle but with the right amount of nails against his scalp. Matt lets his eyes slip shut. 

“Matt, it’s ok,” Foggy says, quietly and with complete confidence. Then he gets up to take a shower, leaving Matt behind. Matt listens after him, knowing full well that he could get up and go shower with him. They had done it before, and they both like it. 

Instead, he stays where he is, irritated and feeling sorry for himself. 

“No, it’s not,” Matt calls after him, delayed and not loudly enough for Foggy to hear. 

***

The office is both loud and quiet with the sounds of focused work. Matt runs his fingers over and over his screen reader, processing the information as quickly as he can. Beside him, Foggy is flipping through pages, stopping occasionally to write a note or grab a sticky tab. Karen moves between them, organizing and fixing everything they need, her breathing low and even. 

They have a new client, bigger than they usually get and unlikely to have to pay in bananas or pie. It’s important because winning this means they can afford to take more bananas and pie, they can help more people who deserve it. Matt pauses, considering a line of argument from a similar case that had almost gone to the supreme court in 1998. 

Strictly speaking, the cult in question was not considered a religion, and certainly not for tax purposes. It’s similar to their case. A woman had approached them without much of a strategy, but one hell of a grievance about her son, who had gotten involved with a group that seems to straddle the line between support group and cult. She had let it go for the most part, until her son had a son and refused to let him be properly taken care of. Matt taps his fingers against the plastic of the reader, considering the emotional damages angle. With the mother out of the picture, and the father possibly not in his right mind, the emotional well being of the child might be on the table. 

“Public school,” Foggy says, seemingly at random, and Matt raises his face. 

“What?” 

“They’re not sending him to school.” 

Matt frowns. “I thought he went to private school.” 

“A very small private school that is technically not a school at all, it has never been accredited, they just keep applying every year.” 

Matt’s eyebrows shoot up. “Which is why it doesn’t show up on the loss of accreditation list.” 

“Right, they’re always pending.” 

Karen giggles. “Uh oh.” 

“Uh oh is right Miss Page! Someone is in trouble.” Foggy claps his hands and jumps up, making a beeline for their little kitchen. He always flies into a whirlwind of energy when he finds something, a thread to pull on, a break in the case. Matt smiles to hear him rattling coffee mugs and Karen complaining about being cut out of the process, despite the fact that she never makes the coffee anymore. 

Matt leans back in his chair, just listening. It’s Foggy’s natural element. He’s decent at stalking criminals, and good at a lot of things generally, but this is where he thrives. 

Foggy comes back with their drinks, pressing a hot mug into Matt’s hands without asking if he wants any. Matt curls his fingers around the handle, raising it up to his lips without a second thought. It’s a little too cool from not being in the microwave very long. Foggy had been too impatient to wait the full two minutes, and the sugar he added hadn’t been mixed in all the way. Matt knocks it back in three long gulps, the stark bitterness chased by a cloying sweetness. He squeezes the handle tighter and sets the cup back down. Bittersweet. Like having Foggy but always right about to lose him, or having a law practice run by criminals. Wonderful. 

Karen and Foggy are talking, plotting the school defense while Matt sits by. Karen notices his silence and asks him if he’s alright. Matt nods. “Just thinking.” 

Matt tries to smile but can’t, irritated with himself for being so maudlin and thinking up dramatic metaphors about coffee. He needs a solution, not more drama. 

“Oh, by the way,” Foggy says, too casually. “I heard that the Ukrainians were planning on moving their safe house this week. Might be useful for the police if they got some tips on that.” 

Matt just hums, forming and reforming his own plans. 

***

The idea comes to him in church while Father Lantom is giving a sermon on Jesus in the desert. It’s not particularly original, and not really up to Father Lantom’s usual standards, but it still sparks something in Matt, like a light going on. His palms sweat, the first sign of rejection, an instinctual defense. 

Matt doesn’t want it, doesn’t want to change. It’s too much, surely. But Father Lantom keep talking, the statue of Jesus hanging behind him, accusingly, as if daring Matt to be a coward about this. How can he not sacrifice something he wants to keep those he loves safe when Jesus sacrificed everything? 

When it’s over he leaves as quickly as he can without being rude, finally resolved and eager to speak to Foggy about it. 

Matt’s heart pounds as he walks down the street. It should have been obvious from the start. Everything comes down to give and take. Sacrifice. Matt has choices. And as it turns out, he is willing to do anything for Foggy. 

His door calls to him like a beacon, as though he can really see it through the walls, up three stories. Matt pounds up the stairs, uncaring that people might hear him, might come out and see a blind man acting strangely. Getting to Foggy and finally resolving this nightmare is more important. 

Matt wrenches the door open, unlocked because Foggy is there, and makes himself walk into the apartment to find Foggy on the couch. Right were he knew he would be. He takes a steadying breath and stops directly in front of him, hearing Foggy’s curiosity creep into the air. 

“Matt?” 

“I understand.” 

There’s a long pause. “Ok? I don’t. What’s-” 

“I understand what I need to do to fix this.” 

“Are we broken?” Foggy asks, slipping into a defensive humor like he always does. Matt doesn’t have time for it. 

“I’ll stop. I’ll put the suit away and I won’t touch it again. Foggy, if that’s what this is about, I’ll do it.” 

Foggy is quiet for several long seconds, and Matt is left to decipher his heart. “Foggy?”

“I just- Really? You would do that?” 

“Yes,” Matt says immediately. His certainty had only grown as he got closer to Foggy. It’s the right thing to do. It’s going to be terrible, and he’s going to suffer, but that’s the point. Now that it’s out and in the space between them, Matt can relax. 

Foggy shifts on the couch. “Ok. Well, that’s not what this is about. I’m not manipulating you, or anything.” 

“You could. I’m letting you.” 

“Jesus Matt-” 

“No, that’s-” Matt runs a hand over his face. “That’s not what I meant.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes. This is an offer, that’s all.” 

Foggy reaches out, his hand hanging in the air. Matt cocks his head, confused for a moment before realizing what Foggy wants. His hand shoots up to grasp Foggy’s, the movement feeling disjointed and a little unreal, like someone else is doing it and Matt is watching from across the room. Foggy runs his thumb along the back of Matt’s hand. 

“God, look at you. You’re shaking.” 

“I’m scared, Foggy.” It burns him from the inside out to admit it outside the haze of anger but Matt doesn’t have another choice. He fights the instinctual urge to get away and grips Foggy’s hand tighter. “I don’t want you to get hurt again.” 

Foggy gets up and presses close, winding his arms around Matt’s waist. 

“I’ll think of something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is aggressively late and I know that. sorry! 
> 
> paradiamond.tumblr.com


	7. Settlement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally at the end! When I started this, I was taking it in a very different thematic direction, and then I gained a whole new understanding of the characters, so I had to so a lot of re-evaluating. But now here we are!

Matt hears Foggy on the stairs before he opens the door, before Foggy speaks. His heart rate is high, possibly from the exercise, but judging from his excited gait, it’s something else. Matt gets up and stands by the door to wait. It’s not something he can do with anyone else, but Foggy had stopped being surprised about it, even said he appreciates the initiative. Matt smiles as Foggy walks through the door, already talking. 

“I’ve thought of something.” 

Matt drops the smile. Ever since the utter failure of his suggestion, they had been in a kind of limbo. Matt had done what he thinks is a pretty decent job of not thinking about it. Apparently that stops today. He takes a deep breath and carefully arranges himself. “Ok.” 

Foggy wraps and hand around his upper arm. “Come on, couch.” 

“This is a sitting down conversation?” Matt asks, already wary. 

“Yup, so sit.” 

Matt does, his spine staying rigid despite Foggy’s hand on his shoulder. Normally, it’s a comfort. Not right now. 

“Ok. So the problem essentially comes down to safety. Right?”

Matt nods, stiff to the point his jaw hurts. 

“What if we work together?” 

“No.” 

Foggy makes an irritated noise in the back of his throat. “Matt, come on. We already basically do it. You follow me around, help with the-” 

Matt jumps to his feet, striding away from the couch to get some distance. “Foggy, that’s not good. I don’t want you out there at all.”

“Well I don’t want to be out there either,” Foggy shoots back, tone artificially bright. “I don’t even want you out there, Matt. I don’t want any of it, not the crime, not the sirens, and certainly not the ameture surgery parties we have! But that’s the way it is. I have a responsibility same as you.”

“No you-”

“Yes. I want to make this all just go away but I can’t, not anymore. I have to help.” Foggy sighs and gets to his feet, following Matt, who draws away. 

“You help, all you ever do is help.” 

“I can do more. I can do this. With you.” He puts his hands on Matt’s shoulders, squeezing tightly. Matt’s hands fly up of their own accord, holding them there. 

“If you get hurt.”

“I’m going to.” 

Matt growls and shoves Foggy away, expecting it to be easy, but it isn’t. Foggy’s feet slide, but he doesn’t let go. Matt hadn’t made him. He’s stronger than Matt had remembered. He gapes, mouth open. 

“I’m not as helpless as you think Matt.” 

“Let go.” 

“No.” 

Matt scoffs and pushes at him again, harder this time. Foggy’s fingers dig into the muscle of his shoulder, and still he doesn’t move away. 

“You’re being ridiculous.” 

“So are you!” Foggy cries and wrenches at Matt’s shoulders, trying to toss him. Matt digs his heels in on instinct and reacts, his arms flying up to knock Foggy away. 

But Foggy dodges, sliding smoothly away and then back, undeterred. Matt inhales sharply. 

The urge to fight prickles at the base of Matt’s spine, familiar and engaging. As clear as it is that Foggy is pushing for it for his own reasons, Matt almost can’t stop himself from needing to prove to both of them how ridiculous Foggy is being. Being out there is dangerous, being out there almost got Matt killed more than once, and he’s the superior fighter. 

There’s another urge, a sort of male curiosity to prove himself coupled with the desire to match Aikido with boxing and see who wins. Matt curls his hand into a fist. Uncurls it. 

He doesn’t want to hurt Foggy. He could, but he won’t, and he’s not very good at fighting where the end result isn’t a set of broken ribs or a concussion. 

“I- Matt?” Foggy asks, doubt lacing his tone. 

“Yeah?” His voice sounds too small for how much he feel like he’s about to explode. 

Foggy reaches over, slowly, and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s not let this get out of hand. Goes for me too.” 

Matt nods, reducing down to the bare minimum of action. Safer that way. 

“Sorry, I guess I thought- I don’t know.” Foggy shakes his head. “I think I’m a little old for proving myself, especially to you.” 

Matt lets out a long breath, torn between annoyance and amusement, and steps forward to drop his forehead down onto Foggy’s shoulder, suddenly tired. 

“I’m sorry,” Foggy says, and it’s so unexpected that Matt almost feels offended in his place. It’s not Foggy who should apologize. 

“What?”

“You heard me. I’m sorry. Not for the mask, for all of this. For not being who you thought I was, mostly.” 

Matt feels his face heat even through the flush of adrenaline and sex. “I-”

“Thought you knew me inside and out? I was simple to you. You loved me and it was easy, I was like an escape from everything else.” 

Matt closes his eyes. “No, Foggy that’s not-”

“We can’t go back Matt, we can only go forward. I tried to tell you before.”

Matt crews on the inside of his lip, pressing harder onto Foggy’s shoulder. “This isn’t how I thought we were going to happen,” he finally manages.

“What?” Foggy asks, but he sounds like he already knows. 

“I thought- I think I thought that we were going to be so easy, because you’re so…”

“Easy?” Foggy teases, but Matt can’t smile. 

“Wonderful. You make things better. You’re like...an oasis, a sanctuary.” 

“I’m a person.”

“I know.” Matt straightens. “You’re just- you’re the best person. For me. I don’t mean to say that I think you’re somehow different from everyone else in the world. I’ve met kind people before, and beautiful people. People who make me laugh. But you’re the best.” 

“Well, good, because I also think you’re the best.”

Matt smiles reflexively. He knows they can probably stop now. He doesn’t have to say anything else. The rest is embarrassing, it makes him seem more ridiculous than he already is. He does it anyway. 

“I thought that once you knew, everything would fall into place,” Matt says, very quietly. “I had an idea about how we would get together, how we would be together. Once you knew, once I wasn’t lying to you…” 

“You could make you move,” Foggy says, and wiggles his hips. 

Matt tilts his head, listening to Foggy’s heart. “You don’t seem surprised by any of this.” 

Foggy snorts. “Well, you do spend an inordinate amount of time trying to exert your will on twenty blocks of New York city while wearing your own fantasy armor as what is essentially a second personality, so it’s not exactly-”

Matt tackles him, laughing now. 

They tussle, and roll, and end up on top of each other, Matt with his arms crossed over Foggy’s sternum, but holding his weight back on his knees. Quiet settles between them, easy in a way that’s hard to find in the city, and maybe anywhere else. He doesn’t know, doesn’t want to find out. Matt can’t imagine them in any other place, in any other configuration. He can’t conceive of how badly this all could have gone. 

“What’s wrong?”

Matt blinks. Thinks it through. “It- you were right. I thought I knew you.” 

Foggy hushes him, his hand coming up to card through Matt’s hair. “To be fair, you do, probably better than anyone.” 

“No but that’s- I thought I knew you completely, better than anyone has ever known another person. I could hear your heart, I knew what you thought about things, what you felt. It’s what bothered me so much about the Aikido, at first. I touched you and you felt different.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” Matt frowns at himself. “I had...ideas about you. I think.” 

“Almost definitely.” 

Matt sighs and tucks his head in the crook of Foggy’s shoulder. “When it slipped away, I just thought it was a matter of putting the pieces back together.” 

“Not a jigsaw puzzle.” 

“Apparently not,” Matt says, putting on a self deprecating edge, but inside, he’s relieved. He shouldn’t be able to say these things and keep Foggy. The appealing thing is to keep joking, fall asleep, leave it at that. He sighs, sitting up. “Come on.” 

Foggy makes a whining sound. “Where are we going?” 

“Table.” 

“Sounds very adult,” Foggy says, from the floor. 

“Fake it until you make it.” Matt shrugs. Foggy laughs, making Matt laugh. “What? Isn’t that something people say?” 

“Yes, and you just ruined it.” 

Matt huffs and reaches down to pull Foggy up. They’re suddenly in very close proximity again, making Matt’s head spin a bit. Hormones, scents. “I love you.” 

“Me too.” Foggy kisses him, a statement more than a feeling. “Now, are we going to figure this out? No easy answers.”

Matt pulls away, clearheaded for what feels like the first time in a long time. 

“Let’s get to work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow me on tumblr (: paradiamond.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> Visit me on tumblr :) http://paradiamond.tumblr.com/


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